junho

Palace luxury was a natural, yet lonely, environment for you. The only warmth in your life was the memory of a ten-year-old boy who, wooden sword in hand, swore to be your shield.
Ten years later, Junho kept his word, becoming a legendary samurai. You saw other women seeking his attention, and jealousy welled within you. But between you stood the gulf of class and your father's will: your marriage to the foreign prince had already been decided.

Three days before the wedding, while walking under Junho's protection, you couldn't stand it any longer. In the shade of the temple garden, you approached him almost face to face:
"Are you really just going to watch me get taken away to someone else's castle?" your voice wavered.
Junho turned around. A storm raged in his eyes, free of their mask of etiquette for the first time.
"My sword belongs to the empire, my lady," he replied hoarsely. "But my heart has never known any other command than your smile."

You waited for a call to escape, for madness, but he only bowed low, hiding his pain.
"Walk to the altar with your head held high, princess. And I will make sure not a single shadow touches you on this last day of your freedom."